


better times

by maraudersourwolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Feels, Carrows Reign at Hogwarts, Feelings, Light Angst, M/M, POV Dean Thomas, Pre-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:15:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13051962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersourwolf/pseuds/maraudersourwolf
Summary: Dean wished for them to come back.





	better times

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set one or two days before the Battle of Hogwarts. I don’t quite remember how the events were on the books. My bad, I should read them again. But for the sake of angst I decided to take my liberty and made everything up.
> 
> I really want to thank Cara for beta’ing my work in such short notice.  
> She’s the best friend and beta I could ever wish for.
> 
> This is also my birthday gift for J - because he deserves it.  
> My bro. My man. I love you.

 

Morning sunlight sets on his face.

His freckles come alive in such a way that Dean is pretty sure that constellations decide to leave the sky each night to come and rest on Seamus’ face. He wants to lay down and make patterns on Seamus’ nude back, connecting the dots of his moles. He wants to kiss Seamus’ freckled shoulders just to see how stardust tastes like. He wants to interlock their fingers and anchor himself in Seamus.

He wants.

He can’t.

_Not yet._

Seamus’ pink lips swollen and bloody at the edges by nervous bites. The shallow sleep that overcomes him; eyes moving frantically from one side to the other under heavy lids, black bags under them, carrying the weight of sleepless nights, night terrors and nightmares. Seamus’ hands twitch in a way that makes Dean remember a red flash, screams and pain, so much pain, unbereable pain. Seamus’ nose is a bit crooked and a smear of red under it makes the silence louder than ever. The purples and blues and greens around the pale skin makes Dean’s stomach turn in an unpleasant way.

Dean sighs and looks around.  _The war is close_ , they said, _the war is near_. They should have told them that the war never went away, that they were just soldiers playing childrens for a short time. That future is overrated, that freedom depends on which angle you use to see it. Dean swallows down the sour feeling of bile rising up on his throat. Seamus’ restless body twitches at his side and Dean looks back at him. He’s one of the bravest soldiers out there, with a fierce roar in the middle of his irish chest and a fire ready to burn down in his green eyes.

He needs to stop thinking.

He doesn’t want to.

_Just wait a bit more._

His fingers find a new pattern in Seamus’ hair and he just gives in to temptation. Seamus sighs happily in his sleep and visibly relaxes. The tense line of his shoulder melting down, the frown on his brows softening. Dean smiles and remembers a better time where fire was the cause of laughter instead of tears, where hiding was a game and not a need, where tactics and strategy were just part of a chess board and not vital for their safety. Better times where Seamus could sleep and not have a crippling fear eating his insides and aching his bones, where his bravery wasn’t under test each day.

Better times.

Dean wished for them to come back.

_It’s about time they do._


End file.
